Shadows in Moonlight: First Script
by Porticulis
Summary: They faced their love like the moon faces the night- glowing through the scarring shadows. Mark-verse. AU. Yaoi. ShikaXNeji; KonohamaruXUdon.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Set after "Mark of the Leaf", this fic was something that has been gestating in my mind for a very long while. As planning for it took place years ago, when planning this fic, the naruto-verse was still at a stage well before Orochimaru was overwhelmed by Sasuke, and of course, the events that follow that. I have also paid little attention to the anime. All the same, this story means a lot to me, as does the Mark-verse. I hope, should you decide to read it, that you will enjoy it. Please be reminded this is AU, Yaoi, and M-rated. If this disturbs you, please save yourself the undesired experience.

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><p><span>Shadows in Moonlight<span>

Naked beads of perspiration that beaded across Konohamaru's forehead glistened freely in the streaming morning light, while his usual wild fringe shook briefly under the taming hold of a dozen hairpins. Bistre brown hair, like silken ribbons fountaining awkwardly away from his temples, were kept well away from hazel eyes intent upon the fist-sized wooden sphere held firmly in the grip of Konohamaru's left hand. The fluted blade of a carving gouge bit into the spherical pine orb along its grain, worked by the surprising dexterity of rigid, shavings-peppered fingers. As the fluid silver light of the blade danced above the roughly hewn ball, the delicate beginnings of coral polyps surfaced from the pale wood. Reflected in his eyes, they bobbed and beckoned with the life and sentience that blossomed in the bosom of the sea, caressed by pure cold currents, folded within a shadowed blue.

Unable to catch his lover's gaze, Udon could not share in the artistic vision of ancient mystery that pulsed in the gleam of Konohamaru's eyes. The priest settled instead for the carelessly polished piece that sat across him at the low worktable- the young man completely absorbed in his craft. The past couple of years had scored deeper lines into Konohamaru's boyish face, bringing out a chiselled masculinity. The quality was becoming against the patient strength that glowed deep within those eyes these days. His cheekbones were more prominent, and the tan of his skin shone with a radiance that had more to do with an inner joy than the sun-rich days he spent selecting the lumber with the rest of the artisan-priests. His sleeves were rolled up against gracefully muscled shoulders, and the loosely hanging front of his robes revealed the elegant slopes of his collarbones. Bronzed and hardened from pure hard work, Konohamaru was the subject of much wistful talk in the temple. Udon was jealously aware of the fact, though he was careful to keep his ire to himself. Even though it had been four months since he earned his black mark of the priesthood, the tale of his rampage two years back was still discussed in a lively recount verging on fantasy.

Two years ago, with the Orochimaru poison in his blood, he had allowed himself to assault his ailing mentor, Shadow Master Shikamaru, and nearly caused the death of Konohamaru. Konohamaru's willing sacrifice, drawing the poison out into his own body, had probably saved both their lives. The part where Shikamaru and Neji arrived to save the dying Konohamaru was always glossed over as a footnote. Always, the story plunged into the moving embrace between the childhood friends, against the sweet grass in twilight, beneath the brightly burning stars above that bore sacred witness to their heated pledges of love.

Truthfully, Udon hadn't remembered pledging anything, but he had woken up blinking at the golden-orange glow of sunrise, wincing at the telltale soreness and the slow breaths coasting against his neck. He had shifted his gaze to the image of the innocent slumber of his friend, and smiled through the initial grimace. From that point, everything had raced forward. A very pale and weakened Shikamaru had testified how Udon, while having assaulted him, had shown no malice, merely uncontrollable rage induced by the poison, and that the unique circumstances of the acolyte's past warranted him a full pardon. Konohamaru had also been summoned to the trial, and he had inadvertently delivered an impassioned account that made the incident that had nearly robbed the youth of his life, seem nothing more than a dramatic reunion in the rock garden. With the two main victims pleading for his case, Grand Deva Iruka smoothly concluded the trial with the decision that any punishment would be more punitive than just, and that the best course of action would be to allow the main parties involved some time to rest.

Soon after, Shikamaru had dragged Konohamaru into his chambers, and when the young man finally emerged hours later, he beamed conspiratorially for days after- most of which were spent in the Shadow Master's quarters. It had driven Udon nuts.

When a Temple Assembly was suddenly convened and Iruka began with the announcement that Shikamaru was leaving in the company of Neji to seek treatment for his ailment, Udon discarded his annoyance in a burst of surprise and joy. The jubilation had hardly faded when the Grand Deva informed them next that the temple had been granted the honour of housing a young, talented artisan from Ichiraku Street, who would serve the temple with his skills while he embarked on a spiritual retreat. It had been the cue for Konohamaru, dressed in the dark blue robes that marked his newly awarded hermitage, to step out from behind the veiling screen before the gathered clerics.

All thought had been ripped from Udon's mind- he simply hadn't known what to feel, let alone what to think. In time, he had learned to appreciate what Shikamaru, and most of all what Konohamaru, had done for him. His master, Neji, had given rare praise to his partner for the delicate manner in which Shikamaru had resolved the conundrum. Clerics of the Hidden Leaf were prohibited from involving themselves romantically with commoners, and violators risked expulsion and excommunication. Konohamaru had received too much exposure in the recent scandal to obtain the unanimous approval of the Deva Council to join as an acolyte, and Shikamaru was unwilling to rely on Iruka's influence, feeling that his one-time teacher had done more than enough. Instead, the Shadow Master had capitalized on Konohamaru's skill in woodcarving and employed him in the service to the temple, thereby granting him admittance into its community.

Konohamaru had blushed to admit it to an insistent Udon, but he was an artist in woodcarving of some fame back in his hometown. Konohamaru had initially been apprenticed to a pipe-maker who had quickly recognised his talent and encouraged him to learn from local carpenters and wood sculptors. His teachers back home were ecstatic that he'd been permitted to study with the renowned artisan priests of the Hidden Leaf, and the effort he'd put into his training clearly showed that his stay was more than a ruse to Konohamaru. Even so, the entire temple was well aware of the main reason the young man was contented to spend the next few years away from his family and friends as a hermit in a secluded temple.

That reason sat across Konohamaru now. Across the table, captivated in his admiration of the controlled passion in the young hermit's movements, Udon watched with the faintest of sighs. Secretly, he worried that he would have to go on another rampage soon to keep Konohamaru safe from the tempted, furtive glances of wistful acolytes. Konohamaru had laughed off Udon's concerns, but the reality was-

"Udon, what's wrong?" Konohamaru had set his woodwork down and was studying his lover with soft concern deep within his eyes. "You're not grading the essays, and you're rubbing the bridge of your nose again."

"Ah-" Udon started, realising that Konohamaru was right, and hastily pulled his hand away. It had also been that fated day of his insanity that Udon had decided to give up the glasses that he had worn in memory of his brother, Kabuto. Kabuto… a renegade novice priest whose own fate had been to find final peace in his arms. Even without the glasses, Udon tended to seek their comfort by subconsciously adjusting the memory of them along the bridge of his nose whenever he was troubled. Konohamaru had been the first to point it out to him.

Konohamaru carefully wiped his hands on a damp towel before reaching out to fold Udon's in their clasp. "If something's troubling you, you should share it with me," he coaxed in a mildly reproachful whisper, squeezing the delicate fingers. Udon smiled and lifted their hands closer to lay his cheek on them, the cradled warmth comforting the guilt he felt.

He didn't deserve it, but his life was fulfilled beyond his ability to comprehend it in its entirety.

"You have good hands," he spoke at last in a quiet murmur, fighting to control the flaming blush that burned so clearly against his pale skin. The tender voice that replied devastated all the self-control he had struggled to muster.

"I need them to hold the most precious person in the world."

"It's a pity your mouth is so glib," Udon grumbled in an oddly rough tone, leaning his face closer against their joined hands, so that the lengths of his dark brown hair flowed across tightly lidded eyes. They didn't hide the rose tint of his ears as a soft chuckle tugged at his heart.

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><p>"No, that's- hah! E-enough! That's about enough right?" A gasp echoed in the suffocating steam that rose from the hissing shower. Against the dripping white tiles of a bathroom wall, a reflection of matching bodies shifted restlessly.<p>

"Tch, we've done this... so many times, aren't you used to it yet?" the other man demanded impatiently, a slight strain weighing on his words. Thick, sliding sounds churned rapidly between them, ripping a groan from the first man who clenched his teeth to contain as much of the agony as he could bear.

"Ngh! Neji- seriously, I can't- hn! It's too hot… hah… hah… it really- hngh! At… at least let me r-rest a moment; it's going to rip!" The first man begged desperately, voice husky and breathless.

"Oi, Shika? Are you ok?" Neji relented, concern creeping over his earlier harsh indifference. "Lean your head back a bit, it'll hurt less."

"It still hurts too much," Shikamaru insisted in a low growl, obeying nevertheless. He was grateful for the stream of near-scalding water that disguised the tear tracks on his face. "You're always so rough," he complained.

"Hmph! Don't be such a baby," Neji dismissed condescendingly, "I shampoo myself like this all the time. If you don't massage your scalp properly, you'll be bald again in six months." His fingers returned to their earlier pace, working noisily through the white foam and mussed loops of matted dark hair.

"No one uses chakra to massage the scalp- hah! Neji! You're burning every follicle!" Shikamaru's back twisted agitatedly as he fought to wrench himself free. "I just got it to the right length-"

"My family- geh! Has been use- uh-ing… this method for years! Tch!" Neji's fine brows furrowed exasperatedly at his partner who had finally managed to escape. Shikamaru promptly backed himself against the wall, behind the spray of jetting water.

"Baby," the Hyuuga accused meeting the reproachful glare beneath a sullen frown with disdain.

"You're almost not worth the trouble for this," Shikamaru retorted as he rubbed his head plaintively then froze as Neji stepped forward, right into the cascading water sparkling beneath the harsh fluorescent light.

In the tumbling crystalline veil, flowing curves seemed to waver like a sylvan illusion of a nymph oblivious to the helpless gaze held captive by its serene ablutions. Startling moon-bright eyes were veiled behind demurely lowered lids, long lashes guarding the base of the twin, soft swells. The high bridge of his slender nose split the rolling rivulets that ran in the shadows of its gilded edge. Their clear tacks traced the corners of faded lips that were like a lost rose in a hot spring. Shikamaru longed to return to those pale tender lines, to set them ablaze with his selfish desires. The most recent rekindling had been nine whole days ago, and even the mere breath's distance between them was unbearable. He forced his eyes to gaze no further past the trickling water sluicing off his partner's chin, fearing that his body might take it upon itself to redress the cruel state of affairs.

Briefly shutting his eyes as he slumped forward with a defeated sigh, he raised himself again and propped his back against the cool tiles. "Neji," he called a little gruffly, dark gaze sheepishly averted.

The returning question was cool and derisive. "Finished sulking already?"

"Tch, don't get mad over small things like these," he muttered in a much more mollified tone, "I have a low pain threshold."

"I know," Neji agreed as he released a relaxed breath, and Shikamaru met the smile in his eyes. "It's easy to tell from the way you touch."

"How do I touch?" Shikamaru asked, emboldened enough to brush a damp strip of dark hair from its perch across the Hyuuga's cheek.

"A sense bordering between fear and affection," Neji answered seriously, before ducking a suppressed chuckle behind a closed hand as a confused frown rumpled the Shadow Master's brows.

"It's respect, not fear," Shikamaru corrected as he recovered with a sly leer, "you've just forgotten that's all, and I know just the solution to that-"

Neji laughed as he slipped out of the shower stream, evading Shikamaru's advance and leaving his chagrined partner to sulk once more as the weight of the water pulled his straggled fringe over his eyes. Biting his lower lip as he struggled to look repentant, Neji reached forward and smoothed the offending curtain back to unveil an entranced gaze. Unable to help himself, Neji dipped back into the crystalline jets to rest a quick peck between those beckoning eyes before hastily drawing away.

"Any more and I won't be able to hold myself back," Neji confessed with a wistful grin.

"So don't," Shikamaru countered eagerly moving to close the gap between them. He halted against the pressure of the Divination Master's restraining fingertips.

"Your parents are expecting us, remember? They haven't seen their son in a while. We shouldn't keep them waiting," Neji finished with a rueful smile. Shikamaru merely shrugged his shoulders impatiently.

"They've seen enough of me at the hospital. They can wait a stick of incense's worth of time," he argued, lifting those fingertips from his chest to his lips.

"You couldn't even speak then," Neji patiently reminded him, though his breaths grew heavy as the Shadow Master drew his tongue over the sensitive tips. The fresh sensations dulled the ache of painful memories from those first few months after Shikamaru's brain surgery.

That heavy melancholy that pervaded what should have been a joyous moment.

After Neji's nightlong vigil over his partner, when Shikamaru finally peeled back tired lids to focus on him, the Hyuuga's initial flooding relief was soon drained from a torn rent in his heart. Moments after waking from his surgery, Shikamaru was clutching his throat and gagging in an effort to speak.

Later, they understood. A side effect of the operation that they had been cautioned to prepare for.

Mercifully, it had been a surmountable one, though the dark days of painstaking therapy had taken every ounce of courage and patience they could manage between them. Shikamaru later remarked to his fellow Devas with exaggerated sullenness, that his main concern had always been the restitution of his high ponytail that he'd been forced to shave off for the operation. Neji merely added to their friends that if that was what Shikamaru was planning, the Hyuuga was going to see to it that the exalted heir to the Nara Clan remained bald. Their offhanded mirth had been promptly rewarded with indulgent laughter. Those paper-thin pretences that could make any intrusive curiosity falter before its fragility… they only served as a screen for the Divination Master's fears.

"I'll meet them first then," Shikamaru finally submitted planting a final kiss on those fair fingers before reluctantly relinquishing his hold.

"First? And what is the 'second', Holy Deva?" Neji teased with an elegantly arched brow.

"A little commemoration of your first night in the city, Sacred Master," Shikamaru returned impishly, before reaching back to turn the shower off.

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><p>TBC<p> 


	2. Shadows in Moonlight: Second Script

A/N: Please enjoy.

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><p>The summons had come unexpectedly, and only a month after Udon had finished his training as a teacher-priest. A self-effacing old retainer Shikamaru had warmly greeted as Hara-jiisan, had brought a missive from his master and mistress. The letter requested that their son send word if he could meet them on the fifteenth of the next month. Neji had been more than a little bemused when the small genial man had added that if the young master would consent to attend, the location would be confirmed four nights before the appointed date. Shikamaru on the other hand sighed wearily, prompting a kind, patient smile from the aged servant. It was only later that Shikamaru explained to Neji that the arrangement was practically code for trouble brewing in the main house. Such secrecy meant that the spies of the other clan elders were on the move.<p>

After Iruka had approved a fortnight's leave from the temple, and after Hara-jiisan had left with Shikamaru's coded reply to his parents, a sealed scroll had arrived by falcon on the third morning. Barely half an incense stick's amount of time had passed before Shikamaru had deciphered the code and informed Neji of their destination- Agni City, The Crucible of Fire Country.

Neji had been filled with both trepidation and anticipation. Having been cloistered at the secluded Hyuuga Branch Family Mansion as a guardian of the Byakugan, the jealously guarded inheritance of the clan's mystical pale eyes, Neji had only ever had city life described to him by the many young guests of the temple and by Shikamaru. Even on the single occasion when he had visited one, having been permitted to join the greatest temple manhunt for an escaped senior of his, Kabuto, he had been too busy darting around searching for leads to indulge in the experience of city life. He had been an intruder, disrupting the erratic pace of life that he brushed past in urgent pursuit of the renegade novice.

Shikamaru had laughed to hear Neji's honest confession of the conflicting emotions striving within him, but had quickly promised his bonded partner that they would have their fill of what the city had to offer before they returned home.

Still, Agni City might be too much for the hermit that Neji knew he was. It was, after all, the most-

"My mom's going to nag at me again," Shikamaru blurted with a heavy breath. The sliding shuffle of his feet echoed the weighted reluctance in his tone. Neji's faint frown over Agni City's somewhat disturbing reputation evaporated in a soft commiserating smile.

"Auntie's always very concerned about you," he placated, leaning closer towards Shikamaru as they made their way down the corridor towards the bright archway that led to the hall. Beneath the subdued lighting, their official pure white priestly robes were dyed the colour of sunset. Neji's forehead was bound once more with an iridescent band that veiled the cursed seal every Hyuuga branch member was forcibly graven with. The shimmering fabric bore the sacred Mark of the Leaf embroidered in gold thread. Shikamaru bore the same golden holy symbol like an insignia of rank over his left arm. The golden Mark proclaimed their elevated status as Deva- the highest guardians of the Eldest Tree.

Truthfully, Neji had been a little surprised that the laidback Shadow Master had suggested that they don their official robes. Back at the Hidden Leaf, seasoned priests and acolytes would scatter from a fuming Neji as he stalked the temple grounds looking for his recalcitrant partner, Shikamaru's neglected official robes folded neatly across his briskly flapping sleeves.

Just moments ago however, he had nearly dropped the more casual kimono outfits and the woollen sweaters that he'd been deliberating between, when Shikamaru drawled that it was too troublesome to pick out something, and that going with their priestly robes would save them the unnecessary chore. It was about as startling as Kiba going on a walk alone, complaining about how Akamaru was too noisy. Kiba was as inseparable from his faithful canine companion and boisterous activities, as Shikamaru was from thin fabrics that either hung loosely about his frame, or hugged it snugly, both styles keeping the fabrics well out of the way of his treasured freedom. The Shadow Master _hated _his official robes that came in a multitude of heavy layers, with sleeves that folded voluminously with the slightest shift of his arm. Now he wore them as finely as he would at a meeting of the Deva Council, albeit in a gait that suggested he was offering himself to the gallows. Pale eyes watched the lengths of damp hair that hid Shikamaru ears and the ugly silver loops that he wore on them. The Hyuuga resisted the sudden urge to stroke those barely veiled ears, hated earrings and all. Beneath the show of ill humoured reluctance, was a wary foreboding that Shikamaru wrestled with in his own distracted way.

"You're only saying that because she's always nice to you," Shikamaru retorted, drawing Neji away from his private disquiet once again.

"Maybe if you tried smiling before her instead of your usual scowl…" Neji suggested and grinned when Shikamaru folded his arms behind his head and grunted.

"You're probably the only one who smiles in front of that lioness," he mumbled to the shadowed maroon ceiling. "Well that's a good thing, though."

"Mn," Neji softly agreed, his heartbeats quickening involuntarily at the subtle implications.

"Who's a lioness?"

The sharp demand made Shikamaru pause mid-slide and brought a wide smile to Neji's bright lips.

"Auntie, you've returned," the Divination Master greeted with mastered joy, crossing past the archway into the fully lit hall. Two familiar faces watched him with similar expressions of welcome.

"Neji, you're as splendid as always!" The woman, who had only just struck the Shadow Master with the harshly voiced challenge, now lifted her face in a smile that wove itself beautifully into a countenance dominated by fiercely shaped brows and rich chocolate eyes. Those eyes glittered with a naturally inviting light, deceptively folding their lethal force in velvet charm. Her nose, with a bridge that was just shy of a steeper angle that would have drawn the caress of an admiring gaze to the vivid pools of her eyes, instead led one to fall along the ridge and draw back instinctively at the firm peak that rose with bold yet unmistakable femininity in its fine curves. Lips, tight as a bowstring, were now wound into an apologetic smile. "Do guide my son as much as you can."

"He's not an animal tamer, Yoshino," a gruffer but more relaxed voice teased jovially beside the formidable woman.

"Uncle." Neji continued with his greeting, his smile now for the more warlike, but no less charming Herbalist King and Spy Master of Fire Country, Nara Shikaku, Head of the Nara Clan. Husband to the lovely Lady Yoshino, who was sworn-sister of the Daimyo's elder sister, and father to Shadow Master, the Deva Shikamaru, exalted high priest of the Great Temple of the Hidden Leaf, Nara Shikaku's rank and fame exceeded even that of what his own ancient clan enjoyed, and rivalled that of Neji's own uncle and current Head of the fearsome and far more established Hyuuga clan, Hiashi.

Bowing before the two seated elders before him and receiving their returning nods, Neji's attention shifted along Shikaku's dramatically frayed pale brown collar and lapels, reminding the Deva of a bristling pelt. Its jagged edges stretched themselves like a wild mantle across the broad, dark green leather shoulder and neck guards of his armour-vest. The bushy, high ponytail that plumed behind Shikaku only enhanced the bestial effect, and was somehow reminiscent of the Beast Master, Deva Kiba Inuzuka, though Shikaku lacked Kiba's feral element, his short but thick goatee more befitting of his status as the Nara Clan leader than wild or unkempt.

"Our cub has a mind of his own," Shikaku reminded his wife, his eyes twinkling in good-natured humour, somehow softening both the livid scars that tore his face and the prominent cheek bones and jaw that framed it in a masculine severity worthy of the fear and respect he commanded in the continent.

"Don't you start encouraging your son," Yoshino snapped, drawing a sigh and a grimace from Shikaku as his wife dragged the slender, white ceramic _tokkuri _wine flask away from her husband's wine cup. "You've had too much to drink," she declared, silencing any protest from a defeated Shikaku.

"Whipped," Shikamaru whispered from the archway, and Neji turned to see his partner leaning against one of the pillars with a disdainful scowl. He wondered if Shikamaru knew that he had inherited his mother's face, though the wider cheekbones from his father broadened it and granted him a face that would not be amiss in the courtly robes of a treasured consort to the refined rulers of the Courtly Era. The image of fully matured manhood, captured eternally in taut curves that rolled easily over a strong yet composed frame, was further enhanced by brows that were as delicately, though less sternly, drawn over eyes shaped in a beautiful balance between Yoshino's and Shikaku's. They captured enough of the essence of his mother's entrancing wide eyes and combined in it, some of his father's focused shrewdness, resulting in steady, gleaning eyes that arrested an observer with the deeply glowing perception in those dark brown orbs. His hair was fully his father's, only somewhat tamer and neater, though the son had taken the natural ease and placidity and transformed it into an art form based on a single-minded aversion to effort. Regrettably, the Nara male tendency towards earrings was left untouched in both father and son.

"Don't make fun of your father!" Yoshino swiftly rebuked. "Stop slouching. A man should always stand straight to show his dignity, and bend only to show his respect."

"Yes," Shikamaru obediently replied, though he marred the effect as he remained unrepentant in the offending posture.

"Shikamaru," Neji reproved softly, before taking the lead and settling himself across Yoshino at the low table, his flowing robes folding in gentle cascades over the _zabuton_.

Sighing, Shikamaru peeled himself away from the column, and trudged up to the table, plopping gracelessly onto the seat cushion, right knee propped up while his arms stretched behind him as he leaned back and rested his weight on his palms. While both his mother and Neji frowned at him, Shikaku smirked with a gloating glint in his eyes that returned the scornful observation his son had made of him just a moment ago. Bad grace notwithstanding, Shikamaru had completely caved in to Neji's simple insistence.

"So? I take it this isn't just for the pleasure of our company," Shikamaru stated flatly, his eyes lowered to stare at a corner of the plain, but solidly built square redwood table, adorned with nothing save the carved circle in its centre. An allusion to the scriptures that philosophised that Heaven was squared and Earth rounded, so Shikamaru thought distractedly. Slowly warm fingers settled over his knee, a comforting grip holding onto him. The line of his jaw shifted by mere degrees, but Neji seemed to catch it all the same and eased his grip into a rhythmic pressure in an attempt to comfort the tension he sensed.

"What, no leisurely small talk?" Shikaku quipped, the strained smile on the Nara Clan leader only deepening his laugh lines and crows feet. Neji sensed more than felt Shikamaru's unease and could empathise. Hiashi had also aged considerably the last time his uncle had visited him and Shikamaru in the hospital with his two daughters. It had brought a pang of guilt that he hadn't spent more time with his uncle, and that he had not bothered to offer to bear some of the weight that the Hyuuga Clan leader had toiled beneath for decades.

"We came as soon as we could, but when we arrived we found the mansion was empty, and realised that you must have went out," Neji began, dutifully filling the awkward pause with polite chatter, "we hope our tardiness did not drive you into impatience."

"No, no," Shikaku quickly assured, turning to his wife, "Yoshino was-"

"I was just thinking of shopping for a few ingredients for dinner, and got carried away," Lady Yoshino continued at the prompting of her husband. "We only arrived this afternoon anyway," she added with a faint smile.

"By the time we returned, it was so late, we decided that we'd never finish in time, so we decided to wait for you boys to finish your bath before deciding on what takeout to order," Shikaku finished with a wry grin.

"He wanted to order first though," Yoshino remarked with an exasperated frown that drew a genuine smile from Neji.

"Yoshino-" Shikaku protested awkwardly, forcing Neji to bite his lip to hold back the laughter, but Shikamaru had already lost that battle.

Chuckling as his brows knitted helplessly, he covered his eyes with the back of one hand before sitting upright and facing his father with a rueful grin. "That's too pathetic, dad," Shikamaru declared in a heavy breath that was somewhat successful in smothering most of the mirth he still felt.

"Well, a good appetite is the mark of a healthy body," Shikaku casually reasoned, a much more sincere smile spreading across the exhaustion on his face.

"Let's talk after dinner then," Shikamaru conceded before turning an appraising look towards the Divination Master beside him. "Which reminds me, I don't think you've ever had takeout before."

"Is that true?" Yoshino asked, a note of admiration in her voice. "That's good breeding. I'm sorry that we're spoiling all of it."

"Not at all, I'm quite excited. I've always been sheltered in a traditional environment, I'd love to learn what the city has to offer," Neji admitted shyly, remembering how he had been a little unsettled that the modest guest room they had randomly occupied had no bath installed to soak in.

"It's like sending a lamb into a tiger's maw," Shikaku noted sagaciously with a sly wink for his son, who only rolled his eyes.

"True enough." Yoshino sighed gustily before a determined frown set in her brows. "Maybe we can make something quick," she wondered aloud, already half-rising from the table.

"Then please permit me to assist," Neji hastily requested, drawing himself up and hurrying after Shikamaru's mother as she swept into the adjoining kitchen.

"They'll make us wash and cut the vegetables you know," Shikamaru warned in a bored voice as he rested his chin on an open palm, elbow propped on the table.

"Not if they want to get it done quickly," his father countered with a smirk that annoyed his son, primarily because he couldn't think of anything that would wipe it off.

"Aaaaaah..." Shikaku sighed impatiently. "Even for food that good, waiting is still hard."

Shikamaru found himself fighting the urge to echo the sentiment. It was the least he could do.

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><p>"Shirataki?"<p>

"No."

"Then, Somen?"

"No."

"Can't be Soba?"

"UDON! IT'S UDON!"

"Arf! Arf!"

Udon quaked with barely suppressed rage as Beast Master Kiba averted his face while he shook with badly contained laughter. The Deva's canine steed, a monstrously huge snow-white hound named Akamaru, mimicked his master's good humour with a wet lolling tongue and damp panting breaths.

He didn't know why the old just-call-him-a-bowl-of-noodles joke still got to him. The number of times he had seen that thick brown mane quivering gleefully, a painted crimson fang bright against a twitching tanned cheek, flashing incisor unsheathed against the amused curl of the corner of that wide mouth- no matter how many times, it was guaranteed to have him fuming in outrage.

"So-so… Udon, right? Figures it'd be that- you're a lot juicier than Soba," Kiba struggled to recover, mock innocence crumbling as he worked in one last gibe.

"Kiba-sama…" Udon began testily.

"Alright, alright," Kiba placated, his smoky brown eyes sparkling with moist mirth, completely calling the bluff of the solemn set of a wide and strongly framed face still flushed with badly restrained amusement. "I really do have an important message for you," he continued when the younger cleric's glare hardened flintily, "umn- you've been selected again."

Dark eyes widened and the bristling anger faded as the news set in heavily within Udon. Kiba watched him carefully, Akamaru whining softly beside him. "Oh," Udon ventured to recover from his lapse, "I… I'm honoured."

"Well- it's just a recommendation," Kiba clarified with a shrug of his shoulders, folding his flowing sleeves over his chest as he leaned against Akamaru, "and you just had one a fortnight ago. You could decline this time-"

Udon shook his head numbly, managing a weak smile that wavered for a second before his pale face fell in a frown. "I know I'm being childish; I swore to accept such duties the day I was ordained."

Kiba sighed and scratched his head reflexively. "He'll understand. Konohamaru's a good kid." Akamaru barked his agreement.

Udon nodded with a wan smile, before lowering himself in a bow, the practised formula already by his lips. "Thank you, Kiba-sama. I humbly accept the honour that the Council has granted me." He rose to see the Beast Master returning the gesture with a slight one of his own, but the response was no phatic string of words.

"Shikamaru and Neji left you in my care," he finished simply as he straightened up. "If there's anything, your big bro's here for you," he added with a wide, feral grin.

Udon could only offer a strained smile to the words that almost bruised him with the memory of a relinquished past, and hurt him with the clarity that his elders indulged his hypocrisy, even as he himself was repulsed by his own behaviour. He had chosen this path, even with the knowledge that however brightly Konohamaru smiled in encouragement, the pain hidden behind that strong front was a dark rent that he had torn.

"Then…" Kiba interrupted his thoughts in the tone of someone summing up, "they'll send the file over sometime tomorrow, probably. The details over the room allotment and everything should be confirmed by then."

"I promised my class a field session-" Udon began, but Kiba shook his head dismissively.

"Those scamps can wait another week or so. If need be, I'll take over from your relief for a day so they get to practice their…" Kiba faltered uncertainly.

"Transformation Technique," Udon promptly provided, unable to help the tiny grin despite the weighted feeling in his chest.

"Transformation Technique? Oh, man… there's gonna be at least a dozen of them doing Iruka-sama, running around and demanding I pay my respects and all…" the Deva groaned.

"And at least half-a-dozen of you and Akamaru," Udon added with a somewhat wicked grin, "miniaturized too, since they haven't quite got the size bit under control yet."

Akamaru growled a low rumble in his throat, wet nose scrunched up in distaste, and traded a dark look with Kiba.

"Pffft- aha-ahahaha-"

Dog and Deva turned puzzled looks at the helplessly laughing priest, cheeks stained red with emotion, but lashes shining with tears.

"Udon-" Kiba called, though unsure of what he could say.

"Ah- it's too much… both of you looked so alike… ahaha-" Udon pleaded breathlessly, clutching himself in the laughter that he crushed out of his trembling body.

* * *

><p>The western sky had cooled into an ashen grey hemmed in by a tide of midnight blue. A tumble of twinkling stars rippled in the twilight heavens like winking pebbles in a stream. Steadily a breeze stirred a restless hiss throughout the darkened forest ringing the temple city of the Hidden Leaf, scattering cascades of ripped foliage to rattle against the corrugated tiles on the roofs, and the quiet passageway that wound past the sliding panel door of Konohamaru's personal quarters.<p>

Hair still damp from his bath, he shivered in the loose green sweater he wore, his lemon-yellow boxer briefs serving him much more poorly as the ominous signs of a storm pelted this silent corner of the temple. Had he cared to venture into the Banquet Halls, he would have been assailed by the colour and grace that the temple's best orchestrated for the current batch of hopeful youths who nervously treaded across finely polished floorboards for their first official meeting with the senior clerics, better known as the Acquaintance Dinner. Managing a small smile even as his teeth chattered in the chill of the night, he thought back to his own clumsy attempt several years back, ending disastrously with his abrupt fainting before the food had even been served- not that there would have been any stage in the dinner where fainting would have been appropriate.

"Aaaah… I should get inside," he whined to the night, though he made no move to relinquish his seat on the white marble railing of the balustrade. Udon was unusually late, and Konohamaru could only assume that temple matters had held him up. While the priest had his own quarters in the Inner Bower Chambers in the northern halls of the temple, unless Udon sent word that he had duties that would keep him for the night, the breath-stealing vision of a deep brown fringe that rolled down slight shoulders above the rolling harmony of his willowy frame, would surely emerge around the corner of the dead angle formed by the base of the smaller north-eastern aerie that the hermits used. Some nights, Udon bedded with Konohamaru, other nights they reluctantly parted before the Inner Bower Chambers, with the young hermit unhappy that he could follow his lover no further. Having received no panting messenger acolyte offer his apologies on the priest's behalf, he fixed an anxious gaze on the rounded corner of the tower base, torn between getting inside to change so that he could station himself further along the passageway but risk missing Udon's entrance whilst changing, or to continue guarding this spot while his mind worked itself into a panicked frenzy.

It was half a stick of incense's time later, while he was still wavering indecisively, that he distantly heard a soft shuffling. Rising from his perch, he forgot about whatever anyone might think of him clad in barely more than his underwear, and raced up the passageway as a bowed head of drooping dark brown locks loomed over stooped shoulders. Even reduced to this state, it was unmistakably Udon who clung as he slipped against the smooth wall. By the time Konohamaru had rushed to the priest's side, Udon had lifted his head to absorb the image before him, bloodshot eyes peering guiltily up at him. Konohamaru's brows wrinkled at the scent of alcohol wafting from the kneeling priest.

"You've been drinking?" Konohamaru murmured as he knelt beside Udon and wrapped his arm around the shamefaced cleric.

"Sorry," Udon whispered softly as Konohamaru hoisted him to his feet.

The young hermit let an awkward silence fall between them as he supported his lover down the corridor.

"How much?" Konohamaru wanted to know after they had managed a little more than half of the journey.

"Three flasks," Udon replied quietly, his gaze averted to their shuffling feet.

"Mn. It's not much, but you don't hold your liquor well," Konohamaru noted in a carefully neutral tone, leaning over to brush a light kiss against Udon's burning cheek. "Next time, bring the wine home and we'll share it, ok?"

Udon made no reply, though Konohamaru could feel the subdued priest relax against his hold. As they reached the shoji panel and Konohamaru slid the door open, Udon suddenly rested faintly trembling fingers on the taller youth's cheek. Turning instinctively, he found a struggling dark gaze brimming desperately as it focused on him.

"I won't… do it again…" Udon began but Konohamaru shook his head, and bumped his forehead against Udon's.

"I know, just remember that I'll get worried next time," he reminded soothingly, "so don't make that frightened face, I'm not so mean that I'll scold someone who's already upset." Feeling Udon stiffen, Konohamaru restrained himself from probing any further and nodded to the spread out futons laid beside each other in the unlit darkness. The perfume of faded lavender ghosted from the cooling pewter incense burners that the hermit had filled earlier, long before sunset.

"You probably haven't had anything to eat?" Konohamaru asked as he helped Udon into the room, easing him down beside the nearest futon and peeling back the thick cotton covers.

"Might not… hold it down," Udon declined, exhaustion thick in his voice.

Konohamaru nodded briefly, guiding his old friend onto the soft mattress, before drawing the warm covers over him.

"Warm," the priest complained and Konohamaru squeezed his hand comfortingly.

"I'll bring some moist towels and wipe you down in just a moment. Meanwhile I don't want you catching a cold. It feels like a storm is coming," he explained, patting Udon's hand then rolled back onto his feet, abruptly pausing as slender fingers held his fingertips entreatingly. Konohamaru favoured the reluctance in the knitted brows with a reassuring smile.

"It'll only be a few moments," he promised but Udon only tightened his grip, pale pink lower lip creased as he chewed it back, as if to stem the words that swam in the tortured light of his eyes.

Konohamaru sighed and lowered his knees to the polished wooden floor again, draping himself over the stricken youth's heaving chest. Listening to the rapid heartbeats, he permitted them to draw his own breath in a race. His chest tightened painfully, even with the fevered embrace of trembling arms around his head.

"You know… I'll be… fine," Konohamaru gasped, breaths fleeing him as urgently as his heart clutched for them.

Udon's silence was worse than the apology Konohamaru had been prepared to argue furiously against.

Later that evening, even the merciless battering of hard rain seemed to fall behind the frantic chase of their sheltering hearts.

* * *

><p>TBC<p> 


	3. Shadows in Moonlight: Third Script

A/N: Please Enjoy.

* * *

><p>When Shikamaru had announced their destination four nights ago, Neji had eventually gotten over his inner emotional tousle enough to wonder aloud about the accommodations.<p>

"Oh, that?" Shikamaru had deadpanned seemingly exhausted from the mere contemplation of all the trouble they'd be put through. "It's a modern-styled mansion in the wealthier city district. Three stories, one basement, mostly vacant and sparsely furnished. It's a bit wasteful, but the property's a special getaway that the clan elders know better than to violate with their faction spies. Now if we can only get the _Hyuuga_ spies to leave us alone-" the Shadow Master had finished with a meaningful arch of his brow.

"Hiashi-sama did tell you that he'd let up on the information gathering once you send him the bridal gifts," Neji had calmly reminded, his tone belying the mild palpitations in his chest. "It's your fault for giving him stupid ideas."

Shikamaru had set the letter aside at that point and lifted a ribbon of Neji's dark hair to his lips, as he was fond of doing at the slightest suggestion that his sincerity towards the Divination Master was being called into question.

"I'm sorry. It's my fault for delaying it for so long, but I meant what I said about marrying you," he reaffirmed, brown eyes holding pale ones levelly. "I'll make things clear with my- _our_ parents when we meet up with them in Agni."

"I'm not so sure that that would be a good idea," Neji warned hesitantly, "Uncle and auntie have been kind to me, but you're still the future successor to the leadership of the Nara Clan, and I can't give you an heir-" A finger set against his lips halted the rest of his objections.

"You talk too much," Shikamaru informed him, eyes glowing with a solemn serenity that robbed Neji of any witty comeback.

It was just as well that Konohamaru and Udon had chosen that moment to drop by for a visit.

"Neji, have you had the time to look around the mansion?" Lady Yoshino's voice recalled him back into the present. He stalled her with a smile as he gathered his scattered thoughts, and slowly shook his head.

"We thought we'd make ourselves presentable before you returned," he explained, though his eyes roamed appreciatively about the dining room that they were now calmly enjoying their after-dinner tea in. Raised in a traditional environment, the folded blue cornices and decorative white columns topped with plastic trellises were a strange and somewhat haphazard décor he was still trying to understand. The plastic vines with their cloth-cut flowers trailing down the pillars were a fine example. At first glance they appeared to be a replica of some flower, but Neji, who had taken his horticulture studies seriously, was quite certain no such species was known to blossom in the continent. Vaguely, it seemed to resemble an odd mix between the tropical hibiscus and bougainvillea, and he was left wondering if perhaps that they were there to remind the diners of summer. The large dining table was a beautifully varnished solid redwood piece, easily able to fit twenty, making up for its plainness in the sturdy reliability it exuded. The chairs were in the same style, quite obviously a set with the table, and the only concession was the inclusion of deep violet cushions for comfort. The pale clouded green tiles flecked with golden specks were left unadorned, and the light blue walls themselves were bare of any hangings, with only a large mahogany dining cupboard filled with various beautiful tableware for display placed before the far northeastern corner of the room. While not having had much of an opportunity to appraise them in great detail, a casual study located a particularly beautiful ceramic plate propped up for display. Upon its surface, a beautiful purplish-blue peacock coiled in the grace of its iridescent plumage amidst boughs that bowed to the regal elegance of the crowned sovereign. The other plates depicted various other realistic prints of various seasons or of various rustic scenes, with an occasional couplet or two sweeping immaculately beside them. Despite the bewildering display of these skilful art pieces, Neji found no harmony in them, no theme that blended the various touches of style and furnishings.

"Don't waste your time, this isn't the Hidden Leaf," Shikamaru advised abruptly in a dry tone, "the arrangement here is completely random, you'll hurt your head if you force any theory to it."

"I'm ashamed to admit it, but Shikamaru's right," his mother agreed, glancing at her husband pointedly.

Shikaku quickly cleared his throat and held Neji's gaze with a stern severity that made the Divination Master tense against the back of his chair. "Listen well, Neji, this style may look clumsy and random, but that is the proof the artificer's skill. To use what appears to be a ragtag collection of mere whim and fancy and encapsulate the essence of the land's spirit and its unique harmony- that is the wondrous ability of a true master. This style reflects the city- the incompleteness of its harmony, the imperfection in its design, buildings striving ever higher and ever more crowded, while nature's boundless beauty is reduced to nothing more than a bauble to be flaunted." Neji listened in rapt perplexity while Shikaku carried on with his lecture. "Notice how even in this manmade behemoth we call a City, the aspects of asymmetry and asperity hold true even in-"

"Dad," Shikamaru interrupted grumpily, "don't toy with my partner."

"Jealousy is a very ugly thing, Shikamaru," the elder Nara retorted teasingly.

"Both of you behave," Yoshino chided, "poor Neji hasn't even had the chance to rest properly after such a long trip."

"Eh, I made that trip too," Shikamaru pointed out lazily.

"Ah, Neji, sorry. I completely forgot," Shikaku apologized with an embarrassed laugh, "we've even got you to cook dinner. We can leave the other issues to tomorrow."

"No, I only helped auntie with some of the preparation. I didn't really do much-" Neji hastily corrected, but Yoshino was already shaking her head.

"Modesty is a virtue, but not at the expense of your health," she insisted.

Neji nodded politely. _'Assuming I get any rest,'_ he countered mentally with a glance at an distracted Shikamaru. The Shadow Master wore a pensive look as he gazed thoughtfully at his green tea.

"Shikamaru?" Neji called, brows raised.

"Ah," Shikamaru murmured softly, jolting out of his reverie. The usual perceptive light in his eyes was scattered and confused. "No, the food really was good," he belatedly attempted to recover.

Neji frowned, his eyes straying from the Shadow Master to the elder Nara who fixed his son with a steady, shadowed gaze. While he had been preparing dinner with Lady Yoshino, had something-

"Shikaku," Yoshino called quietly, her questioning gaze carrying a hint of reprimand.

The clan leader remained silent, his intent gaze focused unwaveringly on his son, who matched it with a defiant glare.

"Should I excuse myself?" Neji asked, more to break the stalemate and out of a mounting annoyance, than out of respect for their privacy.

Despite Neji's careful control, the elder Nara must have caught something from his tone.

"I'm sorry, Neji. I really did want you to spend at least the first night without incident," Shikaku replied gently. The solemn expression he turned towards Neji was touched with a sullen regret.

Abashed, Neji lowered his head. "No, I-"

"No, it's fine," Yoshino interjected, "there's a lot that should be explained to you. It's just-"

"-it's just that some things that can't be uttered must still be said," Shikaku finished, though he fell back into an uncomfortable silence.

"Neji," Shikamaru finally spoke up, his gaze level but oddly fragile as he abruptly reached into his robes, into the shadows, and withdrew a slender length of wondrous light.

In mute amazement, Neji made out a thick, heavyset crystalline hilt, a clear blood red, devoid of any crosspiece and glowing with its own inner light. The sheath too was a wonder, ivory in texture, an exceptional pure white hue. Its rounded edges caught the light at an angle that suspended a rainbow sheen. Words were carved into both hilt and sheath, but Neji could barely make out the ancient calligraphy. The scholar in him yearned to examine the relic.

"Is this the-" Neji whispered in awe, pale eyes widening as Shikamaru slowly inclined his head.

Lifting the short sword before his chest, the relic resting in his open palms, Shikamaru's hushed call drew a pulse from its light flux.

"Bound Sword of Shadows- Kirinketsu."

* * *

><p>White jasmines floated silently in the still water of a black marble bath. They flowed aimlessly along with the hollow echoes of the pool, folding gently against Udon's naked chest. A distant perpetual drip punctuated the white noise like a constant query into the lost expression hovering beneath the anguished slant of his brows. The damp cling of his hair against his prickling nape down to the shadowed slope of his back, was little comfort. It could not replace the secure hold of warm, strong hands, already missed. His desperate union with Konohamaru had gasped and clawed well into the dawn, as the storm had.<p>

The rain had battered the shutters with a ferocity that calmed in brief moments of reprieve, only to shatter soft murmuring whispers with the violence of a tempest, crashing relentlessly about the shuddering structures. Yet for all its power, for all its passion, the nightlong storm had petered out into a dreary grey drizzle as dawn broke against the dripping shingles, still drenched from the spent onslaught. A rushed bath was all they had to linger over before the time came, and Udon found himself fighting the sharp pangs. As he left his lover behind, Udon sensed Konohamaru watching him with the quiet assurance of someone contented to wait for his return. It was a sentiment that crushed whatever words of comfort the young priest might have offered before it had been too late.

Now he soaked in a purifying bath prepared by the ever-tending acolytes. Taking care to leisurely splash the blessed water against his body, his hands slid from the sides of his bared neck, down his collarbone. Past the soft suppleness of his chest, they glided to the hard ridges tensing along his stomach. Though warmed by ancient enchantments, the water trickling off him left his skin with a dampening chill. Shivering, he let his sins sink deeper into his consciousness until he felt only their weight.

He shook the thoughts away in a shower of bath droplets. There would be time for self-disgust later. Presently, the youth Udon had been entrusted with to guide through his rite of passage was due to arrive. In mere moments, they would conduct the Ablution of Mercy.

This commencing ablution was as symbolic of purity, as it was of the tantalizing sensuality that inspires the primal forces of life and creation uniting Heaven and Earth. It was his task to embody these virtues that were celebrated within this Water Veil Chamber.

Everywhere the eye turned no jutting corner or pointed edge disrupted the harmonious curves of the domed, black marble. It was almost as if a stonemason had chanced upon a natural cave of the glistening dark mineral and polished it to a mirror-smooth lustre. The same improbable stonemason would seem to have hollowed a dark pearl, so that the fey spirits of the night could drape their robes on the delicately painted screens of trysting nightingales, to descend into the glowing bowl of pristine water. Light streamed from inlaid mother of pearl enchanted by priestly arts to luminescence, and crafted by the hands of artisans into soft beauty, illuminating the bath water and the white veins of the dusky vault. The iridescent material was closely laminated onto the curved marble by tiling mother of pearl tesserae, forming a mosaic tapestry that told the tale of the Virgin Ablution.

There, stretching forth in all directions from the zenith were the pearly branches of the Eldest Tree. Represented as an eight-spoke verdant canopy, the image alluded to the Eight Principles of the teachings and the eight corners of the Earthly Design, encompassed within the aegis of the sacred tree. Suspended perpendicularly to the end of each branch, a long sheet of silk dyed in the plumage of twilight cascaded into the flower bath. Vivid in their hues of smouldering saffron darkening to fiery vermillion, they symbolized the Will of Fire nourished by the holy tree, and danced animatedly in the water. Udon stood in the centre of the eight streaming silken sheets, cloaked in their translucent veil. They formed a screen to the tantalizing silhouette of his form, lit by the glow of the enchanted mosaic.

"Udon-sensei," a prepubescent voice called deferentially. Udon glanced at the veiled doorway in the easternmost arch. "My brothers and I have completed the Minor Purification for Kouji-san. May we permit his entrance for the Ablution of Mercy?"

"I permit it." Though Udon whispered, the chakra he mingled into his breath carried his words to the farthest limits of the bathing pool.

"Kouji-san," Udon heard the child-acolyte timidly begin, "Udon-sensei bids you welcome." The sweet, innocent voice brought a crooked smile to his face. He had been too self-absorbed upon his arrival to even ask for the boy's name, but Udon wondered now if this was the acolyte's first assignment. The cherubic "baby acolytes", as those clerics who had yet to come into their physical maturity were often referred as, usually served as attendants to such rituals of purity. Within the Water Veil Chamber, their duties included the task of disrobing and scrubbing down both the guiding priest and his guest in a small purification ceremony. While Udon had at least been able to convince the baby acolyte that "–sama" could be dispensed with, the acolyte still clung to "-sensei" with a desperate zeal.

"Thanks kid," a deeper baritone boomed in response. "You should have let me wash myself though- your clothes are all wet now."

"N-no! I mean, this is my duty and-" the acolyte explained flusteredly.

"Alright, alright, relax. I get it," the young man soothed gruffly, voice growing closer as he shouldered past the gossamer screen over the Spring Thunder entrance. Almost mechanically, Udon recalled that the easterly direction was the seat of spiritual arousal.

The octagonal array of flaming veils partially obscured Udon's view of the impertinent new arrival, but the memory of his picture from the files filled in the details. Kouji possessed a broad face with a strong jaw. Perhaps a few more maturing years would add a commanding presence to it, but for the moment, the youthfully wrought masculinity was still soft with untried arrogance. Wide eyes set with vibrant yellow irises seemed to flash with the young man's emotions, projecting them unsparingly whether or not they were appreciated. A sweeping slate-gray fringe barely kept out of the thick knitted brows. Those furrowed brows streaked above the annoyance in his eyes like wind-shredded wisps of storm clouds. An unfortunate button nose flared grumpily, and combined with the almost childish scowl that thin lips were clearly struggling not to form, completed Udon's mental entry of his assignment's photograph.

What the file had left out, and what Udon studied with professional curiosity, was any mention of the generous swell of muscles padding the young man's impressive frame. They furnished his shoulders with a hard yet malleable power. Strength corded and stretched along the rest of his long body with the practised ease of someone who earned his living through their constant use. Yet, for a body used to the sweat of hard work, there was only a sparse coating of fine silver hairs. They began as a faint suggestion of a trail from the hollow dent of his collarbone. Drawing down to the shifting ridges of his firm stomach and further past a shallow navel, the trail joined a slightly thicker mat that coiled darkly above the slightly shuddering weight of his manhood and hefty nut sack.

Kouji was as old as Konohamaru and Udon himself. Udon had been rather disheartened to discover that he would be guiding someone almost two years past the recommended age for the customary rite of passage. From the reports he'd been permitted to study, assignments were considerably more difficult to handle past the ideal age. Notes made by the respective guiding priests suggested that they met more stubbornness and pride the older their guests were. The assessment report by the priest who had hosted Kouji's Acquaintance Dinner was even bleaker.

"_Convinced of __the lack of any real necessity of the rites, excepting an unhealthy fondness for antiquated folklore, one may be tempted to discern from his disposition that to the young man, the priests of the Hidden Leaf are nothing more than glorified mistresses of a totemic symbol, with a vicious streak of megalomania. Extreme patience and persuasion would be crucial in handling this guest."_

With a perverse fascination of his impending doom, Udon had delved further into the background notes. Kouji had spent the last three years across the borders of Fire Country in the Land of Waves, a nation that had been left impoverished by the destructive flames of civil war that had raged for over a century. Only in the past five years of uneasy peace had it begun to truly recover. Kouji's family owned a modest but flourishing teashop, and as a subject of the affluent Fire Country, had no reason to seek employment in the devastated Land of Waves. That he had taken it upon himself to venture independently into a country where gangs and mobs still dominated any semblance of social order, was sufficient testament to his courage- or foolhardiness. That he had emerged from that experience unbroken and proud, enough to put on airs before the most feared and honoured clergy in all of Fire Country, clearly indicated to Udon that here was a youth who would not simply submit himself to the guidance of anyone without a fight.

Udon fought the urge to sigh. He waited for the appraising look Kouji traced over his silhouette to draw back into a bored expression.

"Cheh! What's this? I came all the way here, went through with all that rubbish with the dinner and the purification, and I don't even get to see the priest I'm gonna sleep with?" The coarse demand echoed in the vast chamber.

Udon did not dignify it with a response.

"I didn't come here to play games." Kouji reiterated with a little more grudging mindfulness.

Udon couldn't help the grin that stretched slowly across his face. The situation was remarkably familiar- like reining in a particularly precocious but rebellious student.

Adopting an instructive tone, he explained.

"Traditionally, the guiding priest and his assigned guest don't meet until after they've been properly cleansed. We call it the Ablution of Mercy. This practice has been observed since the time of the Founding Grand Deva, Hashirama-sama of the Senju Clan." Udon lifted a hand, fingers curling in a beckoning gesture. "It'll be easier to understand if you come closer."

"Tch, all these stupid rules," Kouji muttered not quite under his breath. Wide terraced steps descending into the shallowest end of the bathing pool lay invitingly before him. Sauntering over to them, his scowl faded. The brightly glowing nacre mosaic wavering at the foot of the steps formed into the image of two beautifully built men captured in an intimate yet reverent pose. The slighter of the two raised cupped hands to sparkle water over the other's long mane represented in violet-tinted tiles. The taller man lowered his head in a gesture that was both serene and submissive, while the image of his slighter companion seemed to impress upon Kouji a powerful sense of awe and tenderness.

"Hashirama Senju, Hashirama-sama, wrote in his personal reflections, that his brother was outraged at the liberties the artisans took with the retelling of the actual event. He himself felt that Tobirama-sama vociferous objections were suspiciously vigorous for the easygoing man. He ended off noting that the final result was a lot better than his brother's highly colourful recountal. Apparently, Tobirama-sama's version involved armies of frothing nomadic assassins who were descendants of an ancient Sand Demon Cult."

Kouji finally tore his gaze away from the captivating artistry to rest upon the indistinct crimson silhouette that had spoken.

"Some scholars depict Tobirama-sama as a friendly, animated character with a subconscious brother complex. I must admit, the arguments supporting this view are quite compelling." The twilight shadow waded a few steps towards Kouji who instinctively leaned away. "The man pouring the blessed water over Hashirama-sama is Tobirama-sama, Second Grand Deva and the most powerful wielder of the Water element ever recorded. His charms perpetually sanctify and restore the water in this Water Veil Chamber we now stand in."

"Sounds like a great guy," Kouji agreed idly. "Almost feel bad about having to step all over him," he taunted as he made his way down the polished terraces with a bored expression.

Udon ignored the obvious bait, taking comfort instead in the warmer tone Kouji had slipped into.

"So what do we do now? Just soak in this or-" Kouji trailed off with a questioning glance for the veiled priest.

"The Ablution of Mercy involves both physical and spiritual cleansing. The sacred water can purify your body, but it is the tale of the Virgin Ablution that will hopefully clarify some of the doubts you might be harbouring," Udon replied, his fingers stroking the shimmering pool.

"I don't have any doubts you can clear." Kouji rebuffed stiffly, his muscled shoulder bulking tensely.

Caught off guard by the unexpected reaction, Udon murmured a soft apology. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

Kouji's bright amber eyes widened briefly before casting their gaze away, his cheeks colouring slightly as his shoulders gradually relaxed. "You- I didn't- tch! Don't make me look like the bad guy here, you're the guys who-" Kouji paused, casting an indignant glare at Udon's silhouette. "What rite of passage? What Mark of the Leaf? Why do I need to prove myself to you? Why do I need your approval to live my life?"

"Kouji-san-"

"If taking you is what I need to be a man- nh!" Shoulders that had risen again in the tide of his fury, froze in the belated realization that he had gone too far. The indistinct image of the veiled priest had not altered noticeably, but the cruel edge of his words had slashed a violent gash into the suffusing tranquillity. The ensuing silence was an angry wound stark against the subdued drip of the chamber. The instinctive excuses piled worthlessly against his tongue, his conscience forbidding him from even attempting such weak manoeuvres.

"I wasn't… I didn't mean you," he finally murmured, "I just… shouldn't be here."

"Kouji-san," Udon responded at last, the toneless manner of his speech deepening the guilt that weighed upon the young man's shoulders, "I think you've made a terrible mistake here. Intimacy with a priest doesn't make you a man."

Kouji lifted his face, golden eyes cautious.

"Intimacy with a priest is the _reward_ for reaching true manhood- and you are nowhere near touching as much as the hem of my sleeve," Udon finished, disdain gleaming like a gilded mantle over his voice.

* * *

><p>TBC<p> 


End file.
